Kelly came tearing out of the house. “Look!” She skittered to a stop in front of them and held out her hand. A flag-shaped cookie rested on her palm. The shaky flag design already told Sam the name of the artist even before she said, “I decorated it myself. Want a taste?” she asked Sam.
The question caught him off guard. “Of course. But only half. You need to eat some, too.”
“Okay.”
Kelly carefully broke the cookie in two and gave him half.
He took a bite. “It’s great.”
Kelly beamed. “Grandma Tessa said she wants to teach me to cook. That it will make me be a good wife. I told her I didn’t really care about that, but I would like to be able to cook stuff so I could throw parties.” She glanced at him. “Maybe when I make friends at school I could have them over and stuff.”
More twelve-year-old girls filling his house? He swallowed hard. “Sure. That would be great.”
Gabriel pointed toward several chairs in the shade. “I’m going to go plant these old bones. Why don’t you help me, Kelly?”
The girl hesitated for a second, then nodded. “Okay. Want the rest of my cookie?”
The old man eyed the half-eaten snack, then shrugged. “Why not?”
They walked off together. After a couple of steps Gabriel reached for her hand and settled it in the crook of his arm. Kelly didn’t pull away.
“I think my grandfather likes her,” Sam said, surprised and pleased in equal measures.
“Kelly’s not half bad,” Francesca told him.
He chuckled. “Heady praise.”
She smiled at him.
He was about to say something else, when her smile faltered. He looked more closely and saw shadows in her eyes.
“Are you all right?”
“Sure.” She leaned close. “I’ve been working on my dissertation. It’s not easy trying to get all the data into charts and graphs without putting myself to sleep. I would much rather just talk about what I learned. But that’s not how higher education works.”
“Smart and pretty. Do I have to worry about Gabriel stealing you away?”
“Maybe. He’s charming.”
“That’s where I get it from,” Sam told her.
She laughed. “Thanks for sharing. I’d wondered.” She glanced at the house, then took his arm and led him toward his car. “You’re going to meet my family today,” she said and sighed.
He raised his hand to rub away the frown line between her eyebrows, then lowered his arm to his side.
“I figured I would,” he said, “what with the party being at their house.”
She smiled. “Good point. I just want to go over this one more time so we’re all clear. When I brought Kelly over to meet everyone, I tried to tell them we weren’t dating, not really, but no one would listen. For them, it’s a very short journey from an introduction to happily married. Once they see you in the flesh, they’ll start hearing wedding bells. These people are not subtle.”
She looked worried, which he thought was charming. “I’m okay with that. Your family can’t scare me.”
“You say that because you haven’t met them yet.” She studied him. “I just want you to know I’m not implying anything behind your back.”
He touched her cheek. “Francesca, I trust you. You’re not a deceptive person.”
She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, the backdoor opened and several people spilled out into the yard. Older, younger, and ages in between. As they approached, he thought he saw some physical resemblances. If he hadn’t been sure, Francesca’s groan would have told him this was her family.
“It won’t be so bad,” he murmured.
She gave him a pitying look, then turned to face the group. Ten minutes later Sam knew he’d misjudged the situation. Badly.
Introductions passed in a blur. Even with Kelly having explained who everyone was, he had trouble keeping the names straight. One of the grandmother’s got his cheek in a wrestling lock that nearly brought tears to his eyes and both of Francesca’s sisters eyed him with expressions that warned him there would be questions asked later.
“Come,” the cheek pincher said, taking hold of his arm and drawing him toward the house. “You can help me. While we work, we talk, eh?”
He glanced at Francesca, who shrugged as if to say none of this was her fault. Her mother asked something and she turned away. Sam was on his own.
“You’re Mrs. Marcelli?” he asked as they stepped into the house. The rear utility room gave way to a massive kitchen with a multiburner stove that would cause trouble in his house if Elena ever saw it. She’d been petitioning for a bigger stove since the first day she started work.
“You call me Grandma Tessa,” the woman said as she directed him to the sink. “Wash. Use soap.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He did as she directed, dried his hands, then walked over to the huge center island. Hundreds of flag cookies waited to be frosted.
She handed him a bag of red frosting, picked up one for herself, then showed him how to squeeze out the right amount of icing.
“In rows,” she said. “Keep the lines straight.”
Six cookies later he got the hang of it and was able to apply fairly straight red stripes on the cookies. Grandma Tessa worked at about five times his speed, applying tiny blue dots to take the place of the stars.
“So, how did you meet our Francesca?” Grandma Tessa asked.
“She was conducting one of her experiments. I offered to help. She was in disguise and I couldn’t tell. That impressed me.”
The older woman looked at him. “She’s an impressive girl.”
“I know.”
“So you have a daughter. Where’s your wife?”
“On her way to Europe to marry someone else.”
“And you didn’t know anything about the child before?”
“Not a clue.” Sam was surprised to feel a burst of anger. “She had no right to keep Kelly from me.” For the first time since his daughter had shown up, he realized he’d missed a hell of a lot. Her birth, her first word, her first step. He’d missed things that could never be recovered.
Grandma Tessa smiled. “You look fierce. Good. You take care of your own.”
His own? He supposed that described Kelly. “She can be a handful.”
“She’s getting independent. They grow up and then they don’t listen. What can we do?”
He doubted Kelly had ever been much for listening.
“You have a good business? You have money?”
He couldn’t help smiling. “You’re not subtle, are you?”
Grandma Tessa chuckled. “I’m an old woman. I’ve lived long enough to say what I think. Francesca is a lovely girl. Her husband died a long time ago. She has mourned him like a good wife, but time moves on. Things change.”
Sam made a mental note never to complain about Gabriel’s gruff inquires about his love life. Compared to Francesca’s grandmother, Gabriel was a lightweight.
“Francesca needs to be married,” Grandma Tessa said. “She comes from good stock. Her hips are a little narrow, but we can’t all be built like Brenna. She’s Francesca’s twin.”
A woman walked into the kitchen. She was about Francesca’s age, but a little shorter, with short dark hair and brown eyes. She winced as she caught her grandmother’s words.
“Hi, I’m Brenna of the childbearing hips,” she said ruefully. “You’re in luck. I’m here to rescue you.”
Grandma Tessa frowned. “Sam doesn’t need rescuing.”
“Want to ask him?” Brenna took the icing bag from him and set it on the counter. “Come on. I know a secret way out of here.”
“Nice to meet you,” Sam said as he hurried after Brenna.
She took him out the front door.
“I see I didn’t have to ask you twice,” she said.
“I enjoyed meeting your grandmother,” he said.
“Uh-huh. And the matchmaking?”
“T
hat was a little intense.”
Brenna smiled. “Marcellis tend not to do things by halves. Just remember that you owe me.”
They circled around the house, coming out in the back, where the tables were set up for the party. Large trees provided shade. To one side young children ran around playing a game. He could smell the charcoal from the barbecues and something fruity he thought might be the grapes.
“There she is,” Brenna said, pointing.
He followed the direction and saw Francesca talking with her mother and her other sister. The light breeze played with the hem of her dress and a few loose strands of hair. When she leaned her head back and laughed, something caught in his gut, making him feel as if he’d been kicked.
Francesca looked up and saw them. She said something to her mother and sister and walked toward them.
“I rescued him from Grandma Tessa,” Brenna said when she was within earshot. “I don’t know how bad it got, but when I walked in they were talking about your skinny hips, so they’d already moved to childbearing.”
Francesca stumbled and blushed. “Sorry, Sam. I didn’t know it would go that far.”
He chuckled. “No permanent harm done.”
Brenna excused herself. He waited until she was gone to continue. “Now I know why you didn’t mention dating to your family.”
“It’s definitely a place I don’t want to go,” she admitted. “For a lot of reasons.” She pointed to a path. “That heads through the gardens. Up for a walk?”
“Sure. Your grandmother thinks you’ve been in mourning for your late husband?” he asked.
“Yes. I tried to explain that my feelings about marriage have nothing to do with being in mourning, but the Grands didn’t understand. I’m not the traditional woman they want me to be. I keep my guilt in check with my craft classes.”
“Have you been involved with anyone since Todd?” he asked.
“After a couple of years I dated some. But I was busy with college, and my heart wasn’t in it. Honestly, it was never worth the trouble before.”
He paused in front of a low fence surrounding a vegetable garden. “Why now? Why with me?”
She shook her head. “You’re fishing for compliments, and I’m not going to bite.”
He grinned. “Sure you are. You like to bite.”
He drew her close and wrapped his arms around her. Just before he kissed her, he thought she stiffened. He straightened.
“Is this too public?” he asked. While they couldn’t see any of the party-goers, they could hear them.
Francesca shrugged. “I’m just a little on edge.”
He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers. “Then I can control myself until we’re alone. Fair enough?”
Francesca nodded and did her best to smile. After pointing at the neat rows of vegetables in the garden, she started talking about how Grandma Tessa and Grammy M went on a planting frenzy every spring because the mundane topic kept her from blurting out what was really on her mind.
She was pregnant with Sam’s baby. In the past two days she’d probably reminded herself of that truth a thousand times, but she still couldn’t believe it.
Life was nothing if not unfair, she thought as they headed back for the house. Condoms were supposed to be effective ninety-six percent of the time. She and Sam had made love four times that first night. What were the odds of her getting pregnant in just four times?
Sam took her hand in his and squeezed her fingers. The gentleness in his expression made her want to cry. Or throw herself on the ground and confess all.
She was going to tell him. She had to—it was the right thing to do. But not today. Not with her family around. And probably not tomorrow, because he still hadn’t adjusted to having a daughter who was twelve. What would he say about a newborn?
A baby. She sucked in a breath. This was going to change everything in her life and his. What about her studies, her goals? Could she do all that and be a single mother? There were months she had trouble balancing her checkbook.
As for Sam—she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He wasn’t going to be happy. She mentally cringed as she remembered his shock at Kelly’s arrival. At least his daughter was able to dress and feed herself. She was only six years from being an adult.
Sam was like her—he’d made it clear he wasn’t interested in long-term commitments or happily ever after. He’d already had to adjust his thinking to accommodate Kelly. What would happen when he found out there was about to be another child in his life?
• • •
Brenna drove one of the small trucks to the north end of the property and stopped by the fence line. Once she’d stilled the engine, she climbed out and checked on the Chardonnay grapes.
She glanced from the tight clusters to the sky. This was the part of the season her grandfather claimed made believers of them all. They prayed for the right temperatures, for the right balance of sun, cloud, and fog. For rain to fall on certain weeks, but not on others.
Brenna straightened and brushed off the skirt of her dress. She shouldn’t have left the party, but for reasons she didn’t understand, the crowd had started to get to her. She’d felt out of place and awkward.
She started walking the fence line. Dammit, she thought. She refused to be missing Jeff. The ass had dumped her for a younger woman, leaving her lost, confused, and a twenty-seven year-old cliché. She didn’t want him back. She didn’t want anything to do with him. But this was the first time she’d had to go out in a large gathering and be a single woman again. She’d been married in a double ceremony with Francesca when they’d both been eighteen. In the past nine years she’d forgotten what it felt like to be alone.
A flash of movement caught her attention. Brenna froze in place, knowing what she would see before she turned. She only had a heartbeat to be grateful she looked better than the last time she’d seen him a couple of months ago.
She remembered everything about their encounter, from how she’d found him too sexy for words and how they’d instantly jumped from social niceties to sniping at each other. This afternoon she was determined to take the moral high ground and be only pleasant.
“Hello, Nic,” she said as she turned toward the fence.
Nicholas Giovanni, sole heir to the Giovanni lands and Wild Sea Vineyards, strolled toward her. He moved with a laconic grace that made her remember being sixteen and wildly in love with the neighborhood bad boy.
Time must be a woman, because it had graced him with a few wrinkles by his eyes that only added to his dark good looks and sexual appeal.
“Brenna.” He paused by the fence. “I can hear the party from here.”
She turned in the direction of the Marcelli hacienda, but she couldn’t see anything but grapevines. The faint sound of music and laughter did indeed carry on the light breeze.
“My invitation must have gotten lost in the mail.”
“My grandfather’s too old to change his ways,” she said. “He’ll never forgive you for being a Giovanni.”
“I don’t need forgiving.”
Men like him never did, she thought. They sinned with impunity.
She looked at his jeans and T-shirt, the latter with cutoff sleeves. “I take it you’re not celebrating at home.”
“I’ll be heading out later.”
He stared at her. His dark eyes seemed to see past her fragile defenses to the insecurity beneath. Self-consciously she put her hand up to her short hair.
“I like it,” he said, his gaze following her actions. “You look good.”
Simple words. Meaningless words. She swore silently as pleasure blossomed inside of her and heat flared, as it always had when Nic was around.
“You, too,” she said before she could stop herself. Mortification followed instantly. She cleared her throat and changed the subject.
“Looks to be a good harvest.”
He nodded. “You heard about the Schulers going out of business? I’ve put in an offer.”
Which was just like him. “Dammit, Nic, don’t tell me you’re buying them, too. Do you have to own every damn acre in the valley?”
He grinned. “That’s the Brenna I know. I got worried when you were so polite. I thought maybe the family had put you on medication.”
She glared at him. “Very funny. You’re on the verge of overproducing.”
She thought of the map in her grandfather’s office, the one that showed the Marcelli’s lands, along with those belonging to Wild Sea Vineyards. Over the past twenty years their rivals to the north had nearly doubled in size. “There’s no way you can keep control of that much acreage. Or is that the point? Will you be hiring people to manage it for you so you don’t have to get your hands dirty anymore?”
“We’ll be the biggest, and the best.”
“Not possible. Besides, you’ve already decided volume is more important than quality. I’m disappointed, but not surprised.”
He leaned against a fence post. “I heard Lorenzo has put you back in charge.”
“For now,” she told him, thinking of her grandfather’s threat to sell. “I’m going to try a new Cuvée with the whites. It’s going to be a winner. You won’t want to go up against me in competition.”
“We don’t make a Cuvée. But it’s not a bad idea.”
“Sure. If you can’t be original, then copy.”
He grinned. “I’ll make it cheaper and sell about ten times as much.”
He would, too, damn him.
“I’ll still be the best,” she told him.
“You’ll be broke.”
Or out on the streets if her grandfather sold. But she didn’t want to think about that.
A loud burst of music made her turn toward the direction of the hacienda. “I’d better head back,” she said.
He nodded. “Good to see you again.”
“Oh, right. Because you really enjoy arguing with me.”
He surprised her by grinning. “Actually, I do. See you, Brenna.”
His statement stunned her into silence.
When he’d disappeared into the vineyard, she headed back to her truck. As she slid onto the worn seat, she remembered when it had all been different. Years ago Nic had been her universe. She had thought she couldn’t possibly live without him, but she’d been wrong. In a world where Marcellis and Giovannis were sworn enemies, Nic had asked her to chose. She had… but she hadn’t chosen him.
The Sassy One Page 16
